"You aināt nothinā but a batch aā brainwashed crazies. You canāt do nothinā here! Youāre precious Lady made a choice and regretted it, so I doubt sheād be against this. Now either you tell me how it is that you followed me out here, or Iāll make you regret cominā here at all."
He spoke in a vicious tone, stern and tense, ready to expect anything. He saw what they did at Comstock House, what they made of the people who went in. And now this strange young man was twisting his nerves into a frenzy with threats.
His laugh is quiet; a condescending and disturbing sound. It was clear he'd riled him up. Exactly what he had meant to do.Ā
"As if I'd want to follow you anywhere," he replies, voice low and even, much different than the man before him. "I don't have the helmet, Booker. You have nothing to fear, for the moment."













